the Bicycle Diaries

On this trip Roy has been obsessive about not carrying anything he deems unnecessary. He throws out paper receipts, discards maps of places we won't be coming back to, and refuses plastic bags when we buy groceries. So I was a bit surprised this morning when he said he had just seen a bicycle pump on the side of the road and was going to go back to get it.

A few seconds later he returns with a new-looking Schwinn bicycle pump. "What are you going to do with that? How are you going to carry it?" I asked.

He didn't know, but maybe he'd leave it at this cool bike shop in Prineville that we had heard about last night. As for carrying it, why that was what his drop down panniers on his rear rack bag were for.

So we set off. After a bit he decides he should inflate our tires just to make sure the pump worked. Although he had to use an adapter because it had a Shrader (car tire) valve, it worked fine.

The first 5 miles or so were downhill. We were on a scenic byway with a cool name.

Although we stayed on Route 26 all day, the Journey Through Time headed off toward the John Day Fossil Beds National Monument.

Soon we were headed up an 11.5 mile long hill. Even the road cuts were interesting.

There were shady places to stop and rest.

We passed by the site of a 21st century forest fire.

As I passed by a pull off, I noticed a motorist reading his drivers' manual. Since my mechanical skills are limited to reading owners' manuals to Roy, I did not stop to offer assistance.

Several hundred feet later, I noticed a shady spot and thought "I better stop here because when Roy passes the motorist, he will probably stop and help." Sure enough he did. I couldn't hear what was said, but I heard Roy laughing.

Sure enough. The motorist had a flat tire and his spare was not sufficiently inflated. Roy just happened to have a pump.

When Roy rejoined me, he said the motorist asked if that was his wife up ahead and whether he had a means to communicate with me. Roy told the motorist he didn't need a means of communication because I always know what he is thinking. If only.

Shortly thereafter, the motorist passed us and tooted his horn and waved his thanks.

It took us three hours, counting stops, to get to the top of the pass. A mile later we came to a rest area with shade, picnic tables, and outhouses.

The rest of the day was mostly down hill.

We stopped at a county park which seemed to have very specialized waste containers. We found containers for pet waste and recycling, but we carried our paper trash out since we didn't see any ordinary trash bins.

Prineville has about 10,000 residents. We passed two grocery stores and a Starbucks coming into town, and we are staying on the western edge. We haven't even seen the town yet.

The Best Western seems like a luxury resort after the historic Oregon Hotel with the bath down the hall.

Barney Prine's Steakhouse was recommended to us by some eastbound cyclists last night, and it was very good.